


Sticky Situations

by birdybirdnerd



Category: Treasure Planet (2002)
Genre: (but only at the end), Alien Biology, Alien Sex, Bondage, Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, Hate Sex, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Rough Sex, Spider Dick, also am i allowed to tag with homestuck shit, also i totally made an a. lien pun with the headmaster at the end there so sue me i guess, also with bonus inspirational scene at the end bc i cant just write straight pwp, bc thats the only way to describe their relationship here tbh, i basically had a lot of fun coming up with scroops anatomy, ish, my world now, oh yeah, set 5 years post movie, technically right before the events of the battle at procyon game but im like. ignoring the game
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-19
Updated: 2018-04-19
Packaged: 2019-04-24 21:40:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14364252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/birdybirdnerd/pseuds/birdybirdnerd
Summary: The night before graduation from the Royal Naval Academy, the biggest moment in Jim's life, he takes a moment to himself to relax.And comes across someone he never thought he'd see again.Things get... interesting.





	Sticky Situations

**Author's Note:**

> alternately titled: wuss poppin jimBo
> 
> basically i just spent the last week writing spider porn bc i always had a Thing for scroop and his voice does things to me so uhh. yeah
> 
> i have no excuse for this
> 
> enjoy??

 Jim sighed as he relaxed back into his booth, a mug of debatably pure Zerrelian jelly-ale cradled in his hands. He picked at his coat sleeve as he surveyed the dingy bar, careful not to breathe in too deeply. No telling what had been smoked in this place recently. Not with the type of people that frequented it.

Tomorrow, he would become the youngest Admiral to graduate from the Royal Naval Academy. He would sail off, first officer of his own ship with a crew he’d been training alongside for the better part of the year. They would sail to the farthest reaches of the universe, seeking out adventure and knowledge and new allies alike. It was his dream, his purpose in life made real and tangible. It was his duty.

But tonight, he would spend it savoring his last moments of anonymity. With his face plastered all over the news and his name spoken amongst the highest-ranking spacers in the Empire, he would barely have a moment to himself in the future. Better to enjoy his solitude while it lasted.

Jim sipped at his ale, lost in thought. The past five years really had been quite eventful. After getting back from the voyage that changed his life, he had immediately been enrolled into the most prestigious spacer academy in the Empire. Shooting to the top of his class was easy; staying there, not as much. But with help from his mother and the close friends he’d made along the way, there was a bright future ahead of him.

And to think he’d started as a good-for-nothing delinquent hell-bent on ruining his own future.

He chuckled into his drink, and his eyes slid closed. He let the sounds of the bar drift around him, the murmurs of other patrons, the shouts of the bartenders, and the clatter of dishes creating a symphony of white noise that encompassed him, lulling him into a drowsy haze.

He felt, more than heard, someone slide into the seat next to him. Stilling, he kept his eyes closed as he listened to figure out who it was without giving himself away.

His eyes snapped open at the feeling of giant claws on his neck.

Jim sucked in a breath to shout, but the claw squeezed in warning. His breath wasn’t being cut off yet, but there was a clear threat there that had him keeping silent.

“Well lookie here,” rasped a deep voice from behind him. It chuckled darkly, tapering off into a hiss. “I found myself a treasure most interesting.”

“And what might that be…?” Jim asked, careful not to move too much. That voice sounded familiar, but it had been too long; he must have it wrong.

“A little cabin boy, _losssst_ and alone.”

Memories snapped into place and Jim grit his teeth. “What are you doing here?” he said. “You should be dead.”

The claw tightened marginally, Scroop’s voice tinged with malice as he responded. “Yes, no thanks to _you_.”

“Technically-” Jim grunted in pain as the claw shifted slightly, cutting into his skin. “Technically, you did try to kill me first. That is a thing that happened.”

He realized belatedly that he should probably not be trying to egg the mantavor on while in such a precarious position. Scroop growled as he squeezed tighter, making it harder for the young captain to breathe.

“You should watch your tongue, human, _lesssst_ someone cut it out for you.” There was the sound of clicking, the hard carapace of Scroop’s legs scraping against the wooden booth as he shifted, and his voice came from a lot closer as he hissed into Jim’s ear “And we wouldn’t want that, _would we?”_

Jim snapped back suddenly, cracking the back of his head into Scroop’s face. The mantavor howled in rage and snatched his claw back. Jim spun around in his seat, whipping out his light blaster and jamming it into Scroop’s thorax before he could think too much about it.

Bright, inhuman eyes focused on him, narrowed in rage. In the dingy relative darkness of the corner they were holed up in, they glowed poisonous yellow. Scroop was still cupping his claws over his mandibles. He seemed to be working his jaw, and as Jim watched, he pulled a claw away, glancing down at the fang that had been knocked out. Yellow-green ichor dripped down his chin, and as his eyes flicked back up to meet Jim’s, the human felt a shiver run down his spine.

“You’re going to regret that, boy,” he growled, crushing the tiny fang before shifting forward. He was stopped by the nudge of the blaster, and looked down at it.

“Don’t,” Jim said, head held high.

They were at a standstill, and they both knew it. Not only would Jim shoot point-blank if Scroop tried anything, but that would also create a scene neither of them wanted to draw attention to. Scroop seemed to sense this, and chuckled.

“Smart one, you are,” he said. “Seems these past few years knocked some sort of _sensssse_ into you.”

“I’ve been busy.”

“Yes, the Royal Naval Academy,” Scroop mused. “Top of your class, so I heard. Fancy yourself an Admiral, eh, cabin boy?”

Jim huffed. “Not a cabin boy anymore, bug-for-brains. Haven’t been in awhile.” He dug the barrel of his gun deeper. “I’ve learned a lot. Don’t make me show you.” _Don’t test me_ remained unspoken.

The sadistic grin fell off the mantavor’s face. “You’ve gotten… cocky.”

“Yeah, it comes with growing up a little.”

“Someone needs to put you in your place, before you think too much of _yoursssself_.”

Jim hummed. “No, I think I’m good. Right where I need to be, actually.”

“Oh, is that so?”

Jim considered his gun. “Well, this whole night has been a surprise. Other than that I’m good.”

A tense moment of silence passed before Scroop spoke up again. “You know, when I saw you from across the bar, I couldn’t believe my luck. All these years, and finally, a chance to finish what I started.” Smirking, he added “ _Musssst_ be fate.”

“Yeah… no.” Jim said curtly. “Gonna stop you right there.”

“Why?” Scroop asked, a cruel glint in his eye. “Scared, cabin boy?”

Jim twitched. “Stop calling me that.”

“Make me.”

Feeling his temper flare, Jim quashed down his natural reaction to shoot. “You know what?” he said. “I’m not dealing with this. Not tonight.” He stood, holstering his gun, and downed the rest of his drink before slamming down his glass and turning for the door. “Take your ‘fate’ and shove it somewhere tender. I don’t care anymore. I have more important things to deal with.”

He only got about halfway across the bar before someone snatched his wrist, holding it tight enough to hurt.

“ _Sssspeak_ to me again like that, and you’ll find yourself losing more than your tongue, brat.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

_“Try me.”_

Jim held Scroop’s gaze a moment longer before wrenching his arm away and turning back to the door. “Leave me alone. Last warning, bright eyes.”

Pushing his way through the doors, Jim sucked in a breath of dirty Montressan air. The cold helped clear his head a bit more. He glanced to either side and picked a direction at random to go, anywhere to get away from here. Slipping through the crowds, he only managed a block or two before he was caught again.

Scroop’s claw snagged his collar, throwing him off balance as Jim was tossed into a nearby alley. He caught himself on the rough stone wall. “Hey, what the-”

The towering shadow of the mantavor advanced on him. “Don’t you run from me, you insignificant little whelp _._ I _wassssn’t_ done talking to you.”

“Well I was,” Jim spat. He tried to push past Scroop, back to the street, but was thrown against the wall again. Before he could move again, the point of a foreleg pressed into his shoulder, digging painfully into his skin.

“We have unfinished business, and I don’t plan on letting you _sssslip_ away so easily this time,” Scroop hissed. He leaned in, and Jim could smell the sharp scent of the ichor crusting on his jaw. “Not when I have you right where I want you.”

Jim jerked his knee up, landing a hit square in Scroop’s stomach. He gasped, giving Jim just enough leeway to bring his other foot up and push the mantavor off him.

Scroop stumbled, but easily caught his footing. “Why you-” he growled.

Jim tried to pull out his gun again, but Scroop was faster. He knocked it out of the human’s grasp, and Jim watched helplessly as it clattered to the other end of the alley, far out of reach. It distracted him long enough for Scroop to attack again, and in the next moment, he was on the ground. A claw slammed into his jaw, making gravel dig uncomfortably into his skin. He struggled, but each of his limbs was pinned by a different leg, and he couldn’t move to get enough leverage to escape again.

“ _That’ssss_ better,” Scroop said, rolling his shoulders.

“What do you even want?” Jim choked out. “Did you come all the way out here just to kick my ass?”

Scroop scoffed. “Hardly. Though you probably wish you were that important.”

“You seem to think so, with how you refuse to just leave me the hell alone.”

Rearing back, Scroop slammed Jim’s shoulders into the ground. “ _Silence!”_

Jim grunted in pain, but kept his mouth shut. The adrenaline pumping through his system made his hands shake and his heart race, and something heavier than fear, something almost familiar, settled in the pit of his stomach. He tried not to focus on it; _now wasn’t the time._

“Ever since you threw me into the Etherium to fend for myself, my life has been nothing short of hell, trying to get back to where I was,” Scroop said. “Do you know how far Flint’s trove was from the rest of civilization? Do you know how long it took me, floating in the void, nothing but my own useless _thoughtssss_ to keep me company?”

“You say that like I did that for no reason,” Jim interjected. “We were in the middle of a fight, you know. You were about to do the same to me- _would_ have done the same, if I hadn’t acted first. You can’t blame me for defending myself.”

“I’ll blame you for whatever I want!” Scroop screeched, bearing down on Jim. “You ruined our plans, you ruined my chance at glory! At gold! All because you picked _then_ to grow a heart.” He scoffed again. “Weak, just like Silver. Typical.”

Red clouded Jim’s vision, and he began struggling anew. “Don’t _fucking_ talk about him like that, you lying, slimy, son of a-”

He managed to knock a leg out from under Scroop and rolled out of the way as the mantavor came tumbling down. Shooting to his feet, he only managed a step towards his dropped gun before Scroop snagged his ankle. Falling back to the ground, he twisted, landing on his side, and kicked out again with his free foot. He landed a solid hit somewhere he couldn’t see, but it had Scroop howling in anger,  so Jim counted it as a success.

He felt himself being dragged backwards, and twisted fully onto his back, bracing himself so he wouldn’t get trapped again as Scroop clawed his way forward.

Ichor was dripping from the newly reopened gash on his chin, leaving muddy spatters on the ground and staining Jim’s coat. He snarled, mandibles dripping with foaming green blood, and Jim could see his reflection in the glowing eyes only inches from his face.

The full weight of the mantivor pressed down on him, pinning him in place. “You are _weak!_ ” Scroop shouted, fangs dangerously close to Jim’s face. “You are _weak_ , just like every human, just like a child, just like _Silver!_ He couldn’t take what he wanted when it mattered most, and _look how it turned out for the rest of us!”_

Jim scrabbled in the dirt, digging his heels into the ground and heaving upward, but he only managed to press harder against the tough carapace of the alien above him. He shuddered, but managed to grunt “You’re just saying that because, because you didn’t get what _you_ wanted. The rest of us are just fine, no thanks to you.”

Claws dug into his shoulders and tried to slam him down again, but Jim had wrenched an arm free and grabbed a handful of Scroop’s stringy hair, yanking it sharply before he hit the ground. Scroop shrieked and released him, which gave Jim enough room to wiggle out from underneath him again.

This time, he was allowed to get to his feet. He clutched his shoulder, panting, and kept his eyes on the mantivor as he got up too. Scroop was rubbing his jaw again, wiping away the dripping ichor. His eyes darted down, and a cruel smile stretched his features.

“Well, well, well,” he chuckled. “Seems like things just got a little more… _interesssting._ ”

Confused, Jim followed his gaze, and froze. _No, no, no, not now, fucking damnit, not now._

“Looks like _someone’sssss_ excited.”

“Shut the fuck up!” Jim snapped. He tried to cover his crotch, but gave it up as his interest was already exposed. “This has nothing to do with you. It’s- it’s a human thing,” he insisted, clenching his fists.

Scroop raised an eyebrow, that infuriating smirk still present, but didn’t say anything else.

The cocktail of embarrassment and fury swimming through his head made any smart retort slip away, and Jim opened and closed his mouth before lashing out. “Look, let’s just- we can’t-” He groaned, dropping his head. “Fuck it. I’m leaving. I can’t do this, I have shit to do.” _And things are getting too weird for me,_ he didn’t add. He tried, once again, to turn away and leave.

Sharp claws snagged his wrists and pulled him back against Scroop’s solid carapace. “I don’t think so,” he snarled. Jim grit his teeth as Scroop laughed darkly into his ear, struggling to keep the sharp mandibles as far from his face as possible. He tugged at his wrists in vain, and was only pressed closer for his efforts.

“What are you-” Jim started, but was interrupted as the ground suddenly disappeared from under him. He yelped, then grunted as his front was slammed into the stone wall of one of the buildings. Glancing down as much as his position would let him, he could see that Scroop had raised to his full height, stretching up on his six legs until Jim was dangling almost his entire height off the ground. He gulped.

“What- what are you doing?” he huffed, feet scrabbling at the dirty wall before falling limp underneath him. He tried kicking out behind him, but Scroop shifted out of the way easily enough, and pressed him harder into the wall, until it started to hurt.

“You need to be put back in your _placccce,_ cabin boy,” he drawled, dragging a claw roughly down his side. “And I’m just gracious enough to take up the task.”

“Don’t do me any favors.” Jim sucked in a breath as the claw tore through his shirt like it was gossamer, leaving a stinging trail along his skin. He would have worried more about his ruined clothes, but the pain was making him feel lightheaded. Or maybe that was the lack of air.

He felt Scroop shift, and say “You need to learn some manners, have that mouth beaten out of you.” He chuckled again - _jeez, this guy sure is entertained -_ and added “Or put it to some good _ussse_ for once.”

Something cold and sharp trailed down his neck, pushing just past the loose opening of his shirt. Two somethings, actually, and Jim only realized what they were when the fangs clamped down on the juncture of his neck and shoulder. He cried out, only half in pain, and felt something warm trickle down his chest. His breath was coming unevenly, and the friction as his body shifted against the wall was nothing short of delicious.

Releasing his neck, Scroop hummed thoughtfully. He suddenly moved, pulling away from the wall and hauling Jim over his shoulder, before scuttling down to the mouth of the alleyway and out onto the dark street.

The sudden change of scenery threw Jim for a loop, and by the time he got his bearings, they had traversed nearly half the port, and were making a beeline for a rickety craft haphazardly tied down at the end of the pier.

“Where are you taking me?” Jim managed to get out as he vainly tried to break out of the mantavor’s grip.

“Somewhere with fewer prying eyes,” Scroop responded cryptically.

The host of images that phrase brought on had Jim’s mind rebelling, no matter how much his body reacted otherwise. “You can’t- what are you gonna do to me?”

“Oh, I have some _ideasss_.”

Anticipation flooded through him, setting his already frayed nerves on edge. Pushing through the excited haze that was falling around him, Jim tried to think rationally about the situation. On one hand, this was the guy who had tried to kill him _several times_ during that adventure a few years ago. He was vile, and slimy, and Jim could definitely without a doubt say he hated the guy.

On the other, this would be a near once in a lifetime experience. A good chance to explore a part of himself he’d not given much thought to. _Very_ high risk, but - and he hesitated to admit this to even himself - high reward, too. After all, when would he next get a chance to study a mantavor this close? They were notoriously secretive, after all, and tended to stay to their side of the galaxy.

At least, that was what he told himself. Easier than admitting he found this whole situation hot.

_Damn_ his body for betraying him like this.

He scrambled to hold onto something as Scroop changed directions, scurrying up the gangplank and across the deck towards the door leading inside. He threw the door open and ducked in easily, but Jim had to press his forehead into Scroop’s back quickly, otherwise he would have banged it on the doorframe.

“Hey, watch it!” he said. “I’d like to make it through the night with all parts of me attached, thank you!”

“No promises,” Scroop grumbled, head swiveling before he turned towards another door, ducking through it too. Jim cursed as it glanced the top of his head.

Inside was too dark to see, but something about the smell had Jim wrinkling his nose. “What is that?” he asked, and promptly sneezed.

Instead of answering, Scroop scratched at the wall for a moment, feeling for something. There was a click, a hiss, and a solar torch lit up, sending a dim orange glow across the room.

“What the fuck?”

It was obviously the captain’s quarters, but only barely recognizable as such. Barren of any decoration, the whole room was swathed in giant webbing. Stretching from the ceiling to the crumbling wooden floor, the sticky white webs were everywhere; covering walls, windows, everything it touched. Most of it was concentrated in the alcove that served as a bed, layers and layers of the stuff in place of any frame or mattress to speak of. Some shredded blankets were bundled in the corner, but not much else.

Jim barely got a glance before he was thrown onto this makeshift pallet. He gasped as the wind was knocked out of him, and dimly realized that not all of the webbing was as sticky as he’d initially thought. The stuff he was laying on actually felt pretty soft and stretchy.

He shook his head and was about to sit up, but something pinned him to the bed.

“Where do you think you’re going, cabin boy?” Scroop asked, leaning far too close for comfort.

Jim watched as his claws started moving, weaving something between them that he couldn’t get a good look at, but that had him worried. “S-Somewhere far away from you, hopefully,” he responded.

Scroop snickered and pressed forward again. “Not before I’m done with you.”

Jim jumped as his wrists were suddenly forced up and against the webbing he was laying on. He strained, but even once Scroop let go and backed away again, found that he couldn’t move his arms. He glanced up. White webbing had been used to tie his wrists down, and unlike the stuff he was laying on, this webbing was _extremely_ sticky. He struggled against it in vain, shooting a seething glare at the mantivor perched above him.

“What a charming little present I find myself with,” he crooned, tracing a claw down Jim’s cheek. “A lost little cabin boy, thinking _he’ssss sssomething_ he’s not.”

Jim darted his head forward and snapped his teeth at the claw. He wouldn’t have been able to do much damage even if the hit had landed, but Scroop snatched his claw back all the same and hissed.

“You little minx,” he growled. “Need to be taught a lesson, don’t you?”

“I don’t need to be _taught_ anything, especially with your teaching methods!”

“Ah,” Scroop hummed, tracing his claw down Jim’s front, casually slicing his shirt open as he went. Turning his claw over, he brushed the back of it against Jim’s straining erection, prompting a bitten-off groan. “But those methods promise such _delicioussss_ results.”

Jim panted, struggling to keep his head on his shoulders as he said “Don’t fucking touch me, you bug-brained twit.”

Scroop leaned in again, nuzzling the congealing wound he’d left on Jim’s shoulder. “I’d like to see you try and stop me,” he whispered.

That was all the warning he got before the mantavor attacked, fangs sinking back into his skin and claws tearing his shredded shirt off the rest of the way. Jim arched up into the touch, crying out as they nicked and scratched him, sending rivulets of hot blood running down his sides. The pain was exciting despite how much it hurt, and Jim moaned as he felt Scroop smile into his neck, dragging his sharp fangs across his skin, tearing him open even more, hot tongue lapping at the mark he created.

Jim opened his mouth to protest, but all that came out was a series of incomprehensible whines as Scroop took it upon himself to press Jim down into the webbing and hold him there, claws dragging down his back and around his thighs, pulling them apart so the mantavor could settle the bulk of his carapace between them. Breath hitching, Jim threw his head back as he babbled incoherently.

“Fucking- shit, god, what are you- what are you d-d- _ahh,_ can you- _shit!”_ he shouted as Scroop’s claw nicked a particularly sensitive part of his thigh. His pants were in the slow process of being shredded as well, and he tried hard not to think about how desperate he must have looked, hips twitching as Scroop pulled away to remove the last vestiges of clothing holding Jim’s dignity together.

And there he was, bared in all his glory to the smug jerk who towered over him, glowing eyes tracing how his chest heaved, his leaking cock leaving smears of precome on his stomach.

And Scroop still had the gall to look unaffected.

After a tense moment of this, Jim said, “Are you just gonna stand there and stare at me like some creepy asshole, or are you gonna do something _useful_ for once in your goddamn life?”

Scroop chuckled, claw still idly tracing Jim’s reddened thigh. “Like what?”

Jim growled. “Don’t fucking play coy with me.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

He was really gonna make Jim say it, wasn’t he? “Fuck off.”

Scroop started to stand. “I could always leave, if that’s what you wanted.”

Jim kicked out with a foot and knocked Scroop off balance, forcing him back down on Jim’s level. “Stop being an asshole and _fuck me for god’s sake!”_

Grinning maliciously, Scroop hissed “ _That’ssss_ more like it.”

Jim immediately regretted his decision as Scroop slammed his shoulders down again. Fire erupted across his skin as fangs scraped harshly down his chest, leaving burning trails of trickling blood. Jim’s heart jumped into his throat as they made their way lower, but Scroop changed course and nipped harshly at his hip instead. His sigh of relief turned into a breathy moan as his legs were pulled wider, the bites working their way down his shaking thigh. The pain was just this side of actual discomfort, and made him strain with the need for relief.

Jim couldn’t see much from where he was pinned to the bed, but he felt Scroop shift above him and shiver. He looked down as best he could, the question on his lips dying as the mantavor sat back up.

A slit in the carapace at the base of his abdomen was dripping a translucent green fluid as a long, tapered prick slowly slid out of the sheath. It looked dark and rigid, like the rest of his exoskeleton, but as Jim watched, the tip twitched upwards, flexing minutely in the dim orange light. All in all, it was almost as long as his forearm and about as thick at the base, tapering to a point at the end as wide as his thumb. Jim stifled a whine, and glanced back up.

“Like what you see, cabin boy?” Scroop’s smug smile was infuriating.

“I’d like it a lot more if it was put to use,” Jim snapped, proud of his voice for only wavering a little.

“ _Patiencccce,_ twerp,” Scroop growled, bracing his claws on either side of Jim. Leaning over him, he nuzzled into the crook of Jim’s neck, breathing in deeply and sighing.

“What the _fuck_ are you doing now?” Jim was getting impatient.

Chuckling, Scroop responded “Savoring your fear-scent. You’re dripping with it, and it’s _deliciousss_.” His hiss dropped off into a strange clicking sound, rumbling deep in his chest, and Jim shuddered again.

“God, if you don’t-” he started.

He was cut off with a cry as Scroop shifted suddenly, rocking forward and burying himself halfway inside of Jim in one swift move. “ _Fuck!”_ Jim shouted. “Give me a fucking _warning_ next time!”

“You wouldn’t shut up, so I took it upon _myssself_ to do if for you,” Scroop grunted, pulling back and shoving forward again. Jim’s whole body was pushed back with the force of it, and he let out another choked shout as Scroop set a brutal pace without preamble.

It was harsh, and fast. Scroop’s cock was blindingly hot inside him, and what started out as a burning pain soon melted into something almost resembling pleasure, a steady pressure building up under Jim’s skin, making him gasp out a string of curses. His skin felt like it was on fire, hot and sticky with sweat and blood, pooling in the dip of his stomach and the hollow of his throat.

Above him, Scroop growled low in his throat as he set his unrelenting pace, hammering deeper into Jim with each thrust. Jim might have been saying something - pleading, or curses, or maybe he was just saying Scroop’s name, over and over, a mantra as he struggled to not lose his mind entirely - but he was unaware of it, as the pressure built to a sharp point.

Then abruptly stopped.

Panting, Jim barely had a moment to open his eyes and shoot a deadly glare at the mantavor before he pulled out, sliced the bonds holding his wrists tight, and flipped him over all in one deft move. Claws on his hips yanked him up, forcing his face into the dry webbing and his ass in the air, and before he could say anything Scroop was thrusting back in.

He fucked Jim hard and fast, the unrelenting rhythm drawing out whines and bitten off curses from Jim’s throat as he scrabbled in the webs to find something to hold onto. His cock hung heavily underneath him, and as he pushed back, meeting Scroop thrust for thrust and barely swallowing embarrassing sounds as each one dragged against that sweet spot deep inside him, he reached down to give himself some sort of relief before he went mad.

A claw caught his wrist and yanked it back up, pulling them both above his head again. He growled, tugging, but only succeeded in slicing open the skin of his wrists. The fresh burst of pain was enough to blind him momentarily, sending a spike of arousal to his steadily building orgasm.

The hissing, chittering sound coming from the mantavor’s chest sounded frantic, increasing in volume with each shuddering breath, but Jim didn’t have a moment to think about them, to think about anything really, because in the next moment his vision went white and he screamed.

When he came back to himself, energy spent and skin buzzing with a million different sensations, Scroop was still driving into him relentlessly, face buried between Jim’s shoulder blades. His claws were squeezing painfully, cutting off Jim’s blood flow, and he had braced a few of his legs against knots of webbing so he could fuck him even harder.

Jim panted, air hot and thick in what little breathing space he had, and closed his eyes again, content to ride this out the rest of the way while he caught his breath. The world faded to nothing but the endorphins rushing through his system and the stinging on every conceivable part of his skin.

Scroop slammed into him one last time, stilling with a grunt as he came. His claws flexed convulsively, and Jim felt the hot spurts of seed fill him until he felt almost unpleasantly full.

Warm cum ran down his thighs as the mantavor pulled out, releasing his wrists as he went. Jim finally had room to collapse onto the bed, and did so, angling to the side to avoid the puddle of congealing cum in front of him. He felt utterly spent, but fought against the tiredness pulling at his eyes to stay awake. He was still in dangerous territory, and needed to plan his next course of action before Scroop decided he’d made a mistake and tried to off him.

He apparently didn’t need to bother, as when he looked up, he saw that Scroop was already hauling himself to his feet and heading towards the door.

“Wait, where are you going?” he asked, pushing himself up onto his elbows.

Scroop turned back, sneering. “While that was a fun diversion, I still have _thingsss_ to do.” He advanced on him, adding, “And I’m sure you do as well, cabin boy. Get up.”

He was yanked up by his arm, stumbling to his feet, and pushed towards the door. “Wait-” he started, digging his heels in. “But you shredded my clothes.”

“ _Yesss,_ and?”

“You do realize I can’t just walk around like, like _this_ , right?” Jim scratched at his neck and hissed as it stung. The wounds on his neck were tender, having barely started to scab over. That was gonna leave a mark.

Scroop scoffed. “That’s not my problem.” He started towards the door again, but Jim grabbed his arm before he could get very far.

“You’re not just gonna kick me out like this,” he said. “You can’t!”

“I can, and I _will_.”

Jim sputtered. “This is- that would be public indecency! I could get dropped from the academy for this!”

Raising an eyebrow, Scroop laughed. “And you think I care?”

Growling, Jim squeezed the mantavor’s arm in warning. “Look, just take me closer to my place. I don’t care, I just need to get home and get cleaned up, and since it’s _your_ fault I don’t have my clothes anymore, _you’re_ gonna be the one to help me fix it.”

As Jim watched, a host of warring emotions flashed across Scroop’s face, before settling on grim resignation. “Fine,” he spat, before turning back to the door and yanking his arm out of Jim’s grip. “We leave. But don’t expect me to be _sssso_ gentle with kicking you out my door, brat.”

Jim let him go. _That’s probably as good as I’m gonna get,_ he thought. Glancing back to the makeshift bed, he took in the sight of his ruined clothes and sighed. He wobbled over and gathered them up, hoping maybe he could find someone to repair them. Hopefully they wouldn’t ask any questions, either. Now _that_ would be an awkward conversation.  

He started to limp towards the door, then, thinking better of it, returned to grab the dingy blanket he’d seen earlier to wrap around himself. It didn’t do much to cover him, but he needed to preserve some sense of his modesty.

Clothes bundled in his arms, Jim made his way gingerly down the hall, following the clicking sound of Scroop’s footsteps towards the door. He hissed as he stretched, every part of him aching. He’d finally stopped bleeding, but from how deep some of the cuts were, he wondered if he’d have some scars after this little excursion. It was a good thing high collared jackets were making a comeback.

Thankfully the hatch leading inside the ship was right behind the ship’s wheel, so Jim could hang back in the doorway, out of sight of anyone possibly passing by on the docks below. The late night air was chilly and bit into his exposed skin, and he huddled against the doorframe, trying to keep warm.

Scroop was scuttling about on the deck, untying ropes and releasing the sails as he went, getting the ramshackle little ship ready for launch by himself.

Yawning, Jim asked “So where’s the rest of your crew, anyway? No way you’re flying this rig by yourself.”

Scroop glanced up from where he was testing a knot. “The original crew _issssn’t_ here anymore.”

Jim’s eyes narrowed. “What did you do to them?”

“I ate them.”

He only had a moment to look horrified before Scroop was screeching with laughter. “Asshole,” he muttered, looking away as his face heated.

Scroop continued snickering as he went over to the wheel, flipping some switches on a rusty control panel. The ship shuddered under Jim’s feet, and he stumbled to keep his balance as Scroop pulled a lever, shooting them up into the sky.

Jim braced himself against the doorway, hair whipping in his face, and tried to keep an eye on where they were as he gave intermittent directions. The ship was a small one, and they were easily able to zip through the city towards the residential area, making it to the apartment block he lived at in no time. Other than his occasional “Turn here” or “Follow this street for a bit”, they were silent.

They set down in a small grassy clearing across the street from his apartment, unable to land anywhere closer. The park was deserted, thankfully, and Jim lived in an out-of-the-way enough area that the street between here and there was empty as well. He didn’t need any of his neighbors seeing him like this- bloody, bruised, nearly naked, and very obviously fucked out. It wouldn’t look good for him, and would create _way_ more questions than he was comfortable answering.

Jim took a step towards the gangplank with every intent to disembark, when he suddenly found himself pushed off the edge. He landed hard on his side, dropping his clothes, and turned back to shout “Hey, what gives?!”

Scroop, still cackling, was already back at the wheel. He didn’t say anything as the craft took off, leaving Jim scrambling to fix the blanket covering his modesty and grab his clothes again. He flipped the ship off as it rounded a building and disappeared, then huffed. Glancing down the street, he made sure there was definitely no one around before painfully dashing across the street, slamming the door behind him.

As he cleaned up and got ready for bed, his mind was on graduation the next day, and how walking across that stage to receive his certificate was going to be interesting.

* * *

“James Pleiades Hawkins.”

The crowd erupted into cheers as Jim stood, smoothing down the front of his white suit as he made his way up to the stage. He grinned, waving at various people he recognized in the crowd as he went, and blushed when he saw his family and friends waving back. His mother was in tears, and both Dr. Doppler and Captain Amelia were waving as well, though they seemed to be mostly trying to avoid B.E.N.

“There he goes, that’s my Jimmy!” the robot crowed, spinning and throwing his hands in the air. The strangers on his other side cringed back, covering their ears as his voice rang out above everyone else. “That’s my boy! That’s my best friend!”

Shaking his head fondly, Jim turned back to the stage and the headmaster awaiting him, medal in hand. He made his way up the stairs, grimacing as the dull ache at the base of his spine twinged, but cleared his expression and smiled at the headmaster as he approached her.

“James Hawkins,” Headmaster Analucius Lien said, returning his warm smile. “Jim. You have been such an inspiration, ever since you joined our program. Working hard, doing your best through trial after grueling trial. You may have had a rough start, being one of our youngest recruits, but you showed us that even those who have bad starts can still achieve fantastic heights, through strength of character alone.” She chuckled, fingering the medal as she continued. “Well, not entirely alone. You showed us that the only way one can succeed, _truly_ succeed, is through teamwork. The bonds you make with your crew, the families you find, will pull you through any situation, all the stronger for it on the other side.”

She pinned the medal to his coat, right over his heart, and stepped back, saluting him. “I, and everyone here, am proud of you. Congratulations, Mr. Hawkins.”

Jim saluted back. “Thank you, ma’am.”

She turned to the table next to her, picking up his paper that certified him a graduate of the academy, and held it out. He took the offered side, and smiled as the camera went off.

As he tucked it under his arm and started towards the stairs leading off the stage, Headmaster Lien stopped him with a hand to his elbow.

“Jim is that… are you okay?” she asked, not meeting his eye, instead staring at something on his neck. “You look like something attacked you.”

Jim slapped a hand to his neck, his face heating. “It’s fine, don’t worry,” he said quickly, before dashing to the end of the stage. She watched him go, confused, before turning to accept the next graduate. Jim made his way back to his seat, avoiding everyone’s eyes this time.

The rest of the names were called, and before he knew it, the final speeches were being made. The crowd cheered as Headmaster Lien congratulated the class, thanking each and every one of them for the hard work they’d put in the past few years, and looking forward to hearing about the grand adventures they had in the future. Closing statements were made, and they were finally dismissed.

En masse, the crowd started moving towards the door, pushing and talking and making a general excited racket. Jim was dragged with the rest of the crowd.

As soon as he was out in the open, he was tackled by a very enthusiastic robot. He stumbled, catching himself, and laughed as B.E.N. hauled him up and twirled him around.

“That’s our boy!” he shouted, startling a few passing people. “Oh, Jimmy, we’re so proud of you! Graduating so early, top of your class. I just gotta hug ya!”

“You already are, doofus.”

He dropped Jim, rubbing the back of his neck. “Oops.” He jumped forward, clutching his arm again. “Well I’m gonna do it again!”

His mother walked up, shaking her head fondly as she watched them. When B.E.N. finally let him go, she swooped in and hugged him tight as well.

“I love you so, so much,” she whispered, shoulders shaking.

Jim hugged her back, then pulled back. “Whoa, are you crying?” he asked.

His mother laughed, then sniffed, wiping her eyes on a handkerchief. “No, just got something in my eye. Of _course_ I’m crying; I’m so proud of you!” She cupped his cheek, rubbing her thumb along his cheekbone. “You’ve grown up so much these past few years, and you’re finally about to leave the nest for good. I’m so, so proud of you, honey, and I love you so much.”

Jim’s eyes started watering, and he ducked his head bashfully. “Aw, now you’ve got me crying too. I love you too, mom.”

Dr. Doppler and Captain Amelia, who had been watching from a slight distance, stepped forward together.

“Just think!” Delbert said, gesturing out to the distance. “This time tomorrow, you’ll be piloting your own ship into the great unknown! Of course, it’ll only be a test run, and you won’t actually be, uh, the captain of the ship,” he added. “That comes later. But still! First officer is a big step, straight out of school. Soon you’ll be in charge of your own ship, flying to planets unknown, fighting strange and unusual people, glory and wonder and knowledge all yours for the t-”

Amelia elbowed him in the rib, cutting him off. She smiled at you, and said “What he means to say, dear boy, is that he’s proud of you too. We all are, and believe that you’ll do a bang-up job out there, if I do say so myself.”

That was highest praise, coming from her. “Thank you, captain,” he responded, reaching out to shake her offered hand.

B.E.N. interrupted them, grabbing them all in a group hug, crying dramatic oily tears and chattering about a celebratory dinner at the Benbow Inn. Jim chuckled, leaning into the hug, and looked out over the crowd.

A lone figure, leaning against a wall in the shadow, nodded at him. He couldn’t make out much detail, but spied a red eye glowing in the darkness and a mechanical hand raised in greeting. He felt his breath catch.

A crowd passed between them, and by the time he could see again, the figure was gone.

But still, Jim’s heart felt a million times lighter, knowing he had been there to see him succeed.

**Author's Note:**

> thank fucking GOD for lordsmellymort, you, my dear bitch, saved my life writing this. i owe you a lot lmao
> 
> also idk how to end fics without something sweet happening and im love his family so
> 
> good fucking NIGHT everybody


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